


Who Needs Sleep Anyway?

by UAs_Fics



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, One-Shot, Snuggling, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 07:38:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UAs_Fics/pseuds/UAs_Fics
Summary: Kenny's been working long hours, so a Saturday date is just what he needs to relax.Request from spaceboi.craig on instagram





	Who Needs Sleep Anyway?

Four and a half hours at City Wok, eight and a half hours at school, two hours rushing through homework, that's fifteen hours, not counting morning grooming and travel time.

Fifteen hour days all week.

Kenny had never been so thankful for a weekend. A weekend with a Saturday date on top of that almost made not spending the day sleeping worth it.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. Even so, he was still tired. Slapping his cheeks might wake him up. Didn't he watch a _Mythbusters_ episode on that once?

As he prepared to smack his cheeks, a voice called out his name.

A hand slammed firmly between his shoulder blades, nearly toppling him over.

“Oh, shit, dude, ” Stan gasped and grabbed his forearm, “are you ok?”

Kenny flashed a smile and a peace sign.

“I'm fine, Stan, my man, but you shouldn't go attacking people like that. Your jock strength is dangerous, ” Kenny teased. 

Stan did not look amused. He fixed Kenny with a hard, probing look. 

“When did you last sleep?” He demanded.

Kenny held himself firm with a deadpan expression.

“I got seven hours last night, ” he replied. That wasn't a lie, but it wasn't what Stan wanted to hear. 

Kenny continued on, “I got plenty of sleep all week. Mr. Kim has been letting me work on my homework at City Wok when there is a lull, so I don't need to do it at home.”

That was a lie, but it pacified Stan enough that he backed off the subject, much to Kenny’s relief.

He would rather not start their date once again reminding Stan that Mr. Kim wasn't all that bad and if he hadn't let Kenny work under the table for the last few years, Kenny’s family would have starved.

Throwing an arm around Stan's shoulders, Kenny asked, “So, what's this date plan of yours and does it involve me driving Sweet Rig?”

Stan snorted a laugh.

“Sweet Rig” was Cartman's sarcastically given name to Stan's car, which all of Stan's friends lovingly adopted.

Sweet Rig was actually Stan's grandpa's car, handed down to him on his sixteenth birthday. The brakes squealed. The back passenger side door only opened from the outside. The whole vehicle shook when the speedometer needle was over fifty-five. It smelled like mold and cat urine and dust, guzzled gas like none other, and Stan coddled it like a newborn baby.

The tank never fell below a forth. He didn't allow food or drink inside. A trash bag waited under the back seat for muddy shoes, and every seventh, like clockwork, Stan checked the fluids.

Kenny batted his eyelashes and Stan pushed him away.

“Nope.”

“Damn, well, worth a try.” Kenny shrugged. “So what are we doing really?” He cast a glance around him.

The morning sun glinted off Stark's Pond. Little rivers of melted snow snaked across the dirt paths. The trees extended into the distance.

Stan puffed out his chest. “Hiking, ” he proclaimed.

Kenny couldn't help but wince. 

“Hiking?” He repeated. Stan had to be joking.

Stan nodded. “Yeah, hiking.” For emphasis he turned the backpack Kenny just noticed he had towards his front.

“You see, ” he said as he began to unzip the pack, “the weather is supposed to be gross and windy next week, so I thought it would be a good idea to enjoy nature before then.”

For a moment, Kenny wondered if this was a test. Was Stan doing this to make Kenny fess up to being dog tired? If he did, would Stan give up the charade then drive them to the movies?

The admission sat on his tongue for a best, ready to come out, when Kenny remembered that this was not the first time Stan had done a date idea like this.

He did it before when he and Wendy were still together. It had been the first time he put his hand up a girl's shirt. Stan bragged about it for weeks afterward, earning the respect of his fellows. 

_Oh, I get it. Stan wants to get down and dirty in the woods._ Kenny thought.

Out loud, he said, “oh, that sounds great. I'm game for some _outdoor activities_.”

If Stan noticed the inflection in Kenny's voice, he didn't show it. Instead, he nodded, pulling out a pair of worn hiking boots.

“Here, ” he set them in Kenny’s hands, “they'll work better than what you have.”

Kenny lifted his right shoe. The sole near his big toe came loose on Wednesday. He'd wrapped some duct tape around it, but when he got home, Kenny would have to super glue it.

Stan set a hand on his elbow and led him to the bench by the pond. 

Kenny pulled out a boot’s tongue with a frown. 

“Stan, I'm a size nine, this is an eleven,” Kenny told him.

Stan set his bag on the bench to dig around.

“I know, so I picked up some socks. Two pairs should work, you think? The pack has three, I think if two doesn't work.” 

Kenny perked up from the bench seat as he untied his shoes. 

‘Picked up’ had become something of a code word meaning ‘you can keep these afterward’ that Stan started using in an attempt to save Kenny some pride when he bought him a necessity.

Kenny didn't complain though. He could always use new socks, with how fast he wore out his. 

“Oh, cool, thanks.” Kenny set his shoes on the bench beside him. As he did, he stole a glance into Stan's bag. 

Gatorade bottles, granola bars, beef jerky sticks, but Kenny didn't see anything particularly useful for adult recreation. Maybe it was in another pocket.

“Damn it, ” Stan swore. “I forgot the socks in Sweet Rig. Do you mind waiting?”

Kenny shook his head. “‘Course not. Take your time, but, ” here he winked, “don't take too long, lover boy.”

Kenny took great pleasure in seeing Stan's cheeks turn pink.

“Um, yeah, be back.” Stan pointed towards the parking lot before jogging towards it.

Kenny snickered, then leaned back against the bench.

The sun warmed the wood, leaving it pleasent against him. The birds tweeted a lovely song. Ducks occasionally splashed in the pond.

He shut his eyes.

“Just for a moment, ” he muttered to himself.

If the weather really did get gross and windy as Stan claimed, then making a pleasant memory such as this was the best course of action.

After a few moments, his chin lowered to his chest, his breathing deepened, and Kenny dozed off.

* * *

On some level, Kenny knew he was dreaming. Somehow he always knew when he was dreaming.

But lucidity of the dream soon faded as the dream solidified into a scene.

He was on a nice couch, in a house he knew he owned— not rented, owned. The walls had posters of scantily clad people in many different poses that showed off their exposed skin.

On the shelves were knick-knacks and pictures of his family. Karen and Kevin were happy and his parents were sober. 

This was his dream future.

When he was younger, the room would be filled with the people from his posters, but with age, the people had dwindled to one person laying under him. 

He had his lips pressed to Stan's neck and Stan had his hands running up and down his back. 

Sounds more wanton than anything Stan had made in real life escaped his mouth.

Kenny pulled back, admiring the string of hickies he’d left along Stan’s neck and collarbone. Stan’s hands stayed planted firmly on his lower back as he scooted to a sitting position. 

He hugged Kenny, hurrying his face in his stomach.

“Good...Love you...” He murmured. Stan was sappy and clingy when they made out and Kenny loved it.

He raised his hand to stroke his boyfriend’s hair when a sharp pain resonated from his back.

Throwing back his head, Kenny let out a gasping scream as sharp claws dug into his flesh.

When he looked back down, Stan was gone, replaced by a thick, sinewy claw wrapped around him.

Its nails dug deeper into him as the claw rose up. 

Soon Kenny found himself face to face with a creature of nightmares and madness.

Cthulhu’s skin stretched across his face like wet leather. His eyes burned with an orange, unworldly flame.

All around them strange architectures sprung up as did disfigure, unnatural monsters buzzing by like grotesque flies.

Cthulhu squeezed and Kenny bit down on his tongue to hold back another scream. 

This creature was his nightmare and, in a sense, his equal. This was one of the few beings that could kill him forever — 

His heart froze in his chest. His limbs felt like lead.

If Cthulhu killed him, he wouldn't come back. It would be The End. No rewind. No reboot. No return after the commercial break. 

Just The End.

His cries fell quiet in his throat. 

Another squeeze and he heard bones crack.

“...no...please...” He whimpered. “I'm happy. You can't do this to me when I'm finally happy.”

Kenny wanted to cry, to scream, to plead that it wasn't fair, that he was scared, that he didn't want this.

He shut his eyes, trying to calm his shaking.

The afterlife stopped scaring Kenny a long time ago, but having all he worked for taken away from him, leaving his love and family alone? That scared him stiff.

He waited for antagonizing moments for the great old one to squish him like a bug, but instead of killing him, Cthulhu turned his claw around and dropped Kenny.

Not once did he open his eyes to see the ground rushing towards him. His body went lax, like Kenny long ago taught it to do when it was one a collision course with a hard object. 

The collision never happened. 

A pair of arms wrapped around him. His head slumped against a chest. The sound of a strong, steady heart calmed his own.

Kenny had dreams of carrying quite, though he didn't know why. At least they were always a comforting dream.

Usually in his dream, either his mom or dad carried him. This time, the scent of cigarettes and beer didn't fill his nose. The scent of body spray, grass, and dog hair did. 

_Stan,_ he realized groggily.

If Kenny had more conscious control over his dreams, he might have wondered when Stan became so involved in his happiest fantasies, but he didn't, so instead, he wrapped his arms around Stan and snuggled close without ever opening his eyes. Curling up against Stan, Kenny let himself slip back to his earlier dream of the house and of a happy future.

* * *

Someone shuffling around under him woke Kenny up.

He blinked looking around. 

The interior of Sweet Rig was all around him. 

“Oh, shit, sorry, did i wake you up?” Stan yawned, stretching out. He too blinked the sleep from his eyes.

“What's going on? Did we go hiking?” Kenny readjusted himself more comfortably on Stan's lap, his feet hung over the center console of the front seat. He was still only in his ratty socks. Where did his shoes end up? Stan probably set them in the shoe trashbag.

“Nah, you passed out on a bench. I carried you to the car.” Stan explained. “I was going to take you home, but then you hugged me in your sleep.” He smirked. “It’s was pretty cute, dude.”

Kenny pressed his shoulder against Stan’s chest and smiled slyly. “Cute enough for a drive?”

“No.” Stan purposefully took the keys from the ignition and put them in his jacket pocket.

“Worth a try,” Kenny sighed dramatically. He continued, “So, how long was I out? An hour?” 

The sun still shone outside, so at least he didn't sleep the day away.

“Try four,” Stan took an open Gatorade bottle from the drink holder. 

“ _Four_?!” Kenny gasped, twisting onto his stomach. “You let me sleep the whole fucking day? How can we go hiking if I’m asleep?” His hand grasped the door handle when Stan set a hand on his wrist.

“Dude, dude, dude, it’s fine. You needed it anyway.” Stan shook his head with a smile.

Kenny deflated before rolling back over. His shoulder blades pressed against the car door. The window handle stabbed into his back.

“But...the date...second base and all...” He trailed off, his mind going to the start of his dream. 

“Second base?” Stan furrowed his brows. “What?”

“That’s why you wanted to go into the woods. Like you did with Wendy? To fool around?” Kenny’s shoulders slumped. “We could go now, but it’s afternoon, so there will be more people.”

Stan’s face went red. He shook his head. “N-no, no, that’s not my plan.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’d forgotten about that, actually.”

Kenny bolted straight, scraping his back against the door. “You forgot about the first time you groped boob?!” He was almost offended. How could anyone forget such an important milestone?

Stan hummed. “About that, I, uh, didn’t. Not completely.” Kenny fixed him with a confused look, so he went on, “She let me stick a hand up her shirt, but the second I touched her bra strap, I panicked and, um, didn’t go any farther.” He laughed nervously. “Don’t tell anyone, though.”

 

Kenny’s lips quivered. Snorts escaped his nose. He tried to hold it back, but the wave of laughter escaped nonetheless.

“Really? _Really_? Holy shit, dude! You went in for the long con on that lie. Remember how Clyde and I begged you to give an in-depth detail on how it felt? Did you just make all that up?” Kenny doubled over, holding his stomach.   
“Shut up, or were breaking up,” Stan threatened, shoving his hand over Kenny’s mouth. Even his ears were red now. 

Kenny pushed Stan’s hand anyway. “Phew, ok, ok, I’m done.” He wiped away a tear. “Back on track, I really am sorry I fell asleep on you.”

Stan raised a shoulder. “It’s cool. You talk in your sleep by the way. Something about being happy and dying?”

Kenny pressed his lips into a line. He didn’t dare tell Stan about this dream in full. Years of dealing with his curse caused him to learn to appreciate it for what it was, a weird, unnatural secret that no one else needed to burden themselves with.

“Nightmare, I think.” Kenny shrugged back. “But it ended on a good note.” He pressed a kiss to Stan’s cheek. Stan wrapped an arm around his waist and hugged him.

Part of him wanted to stay in the front seat and keep snuggling the rest of the day, but the afternoon was so lovely, it would have been a crime to do so. 

“I think,” Kenny said, reaching for the door, “I do what to go on that hike now”

**Author's Note:**

> my writing tumblr


End file.
